Go Fish
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Oh, it was going to be a fine way to finish up the month of April. Rain and storms were coming and Collette hoped they’d stay a good while. The future looked promising once again.
But there were other things on her mind as well. It was early that morning around five o’clock that she was thinking about it – how people thought they were so invincible and capable, (including herself), able to withstand the storm and the fight and the heartache… until they became ill. Whenever death stared them in the face, or even whispered around the corner, it was then they realized how they were teetering over the great divide. And for so many, hell lay down below. It had to be a terribly frightening thing for most people to think about. Even for Christians it wasn’t a pleasant thing to think of, mostly. Death was nothing to laugh at no matter who one was. And while there was no reason to fear it, Collette knew that it took very little for people to crumble in the face of life ending, and to forget everything else until they knew what would happen to their souls.
The day had not been the easiest at work, but was typical. It was brightened by the cheerful appearance of a Gerbera daisy pot on her desk in candy pink, a very thoughtful gift from a couple at church for secretary week. And Collette decided that she would take tuna sandwiches and baked potato chips to work from then on. Perhaps it was a passing health craze, but she knew she would get over it eventually.
Meanwhile at home, Collette was greeted with squeals of delight from Carrie who had just found new and improved pictures of the Muse dudes. And Rose had just killed off her fish by accidental poisoning, and had plans to purchase new ones that evening.
“And I’ll murder them with my mystical powers! Arrr!” She assumed a karate position and wrinkled her face into the usual Rose menace.
“Go back to the counter, Rose,” Collette shook her head in wonder, “and finish your math.”
And so Rose did, while continuing to ramble.
“Yeah, so nine fish died. I flushed them down the toilet. I thought it was going to clog, and fish would be flying everywhere. My little neon tetra died.”
And so Rose drew a memorial to her fish with dry-erase marker on the glass of the tank. Before they left for the pet store, nine squiggly tombstones sat lined up across the bottom, each labeled smugly with “RIP”.
And so at the store, it took a good while to decide on what would be taken. Rose was keen on some new tank decorations which ranged from Angkor Watt, Egypt, Rome and Greece, pirate ships and bones, castles, and Chinese pagodas. And perhaps a few plants – some which were imported directly from Indonesia, Taiwan, Malaysia, Thailand, and India.
“Look! Guppies!” Rose knelt by a low tank to observe her finely finned friends. “I want some!”
“How about these lovely orange fish over here,” Mom suggested.
“No, I want guppies!”
“No, Rose. I’m not paying three dollars apiece for the guppies.”
“Well, neon tetras then. I want a whole bunch of them.”
“No, Rose,” Collette said. “You always kill them off first.”
Rose laughed.
“Well, they don’t last very long… I want guppies.”
“Here, here are some cherry barbs and gold barbs.”
“Or these pretty little white ones.”
“Or how about these nice dark orange ones from South America. Look, Rose, they love you.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Here. Aren’t these cute? They’re from Africa.”
“Or these red ones. Oh, look – an Incan gold snail.”
“I want guppies!”
They were finally able to distract her with the fiddler crabs, of which she took two. And then a small white fish all by its lonesome in an empty tank.
“I want one of these! A Balloon Molly. They’re so fat!”
“Rose, they’re eight dollars apiece.”
“Well, then what about these?”
She pointed at the iridescent sharks.
“They’re ugly.”
“Go get the guy to get the fish, Rose.”
“This is so embarrassing,” she flopped off in her flip-flops.
And so, she ended up with another bag of golden fish and the fish tank seemed to be resettled again for a short time at least.